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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341978">sunrise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibuiltthesunforyou/pseuds/ibuiltthesunforyou'>ibuiltthesunforyou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:21:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibuiltthesunforyou/pseuds/ibuiltthesunforyou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"probably the latter. but she barely looks real. like some sort of living doll, put together perfectly. honey eyes, and wild hair, and lips that look like you could take a bite out of them like the sweetest peach. so I forgive myself, for my internal outburst, because I really, truly don’t know why anyone is looking forward, and not at her. "</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alice Cullen/Bella Swan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sunrise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I couldn’t really tell you what my first memory of Forks, Washington would be. I knew that it probably included rain, but that wasn’t very hard to imagine. It’s like saying that you remember pineapple in Hawaii, or sunshine in Arizona. That’s what I’m thinking about, anyway, with my shoulder pressed up against the closed window, most of my vision completely blurred by the water on its surface. But there is a lot of green. Way too much in my opinion. My eyes flicked down to the small succulent in my hands. It looks astonishingly different from the big, full trees outside Charlie’s car. And I think to myself, that this is probably how I’ll feel, when I take a step into my new high school. God, high school was ridiculous, but starting midway through, not knowing anyone? That was downright insane.</p><p>So I was downright insane. Why did I do this again? Oh yeah. The main reason I’d do anything. My mom. She was eccentric, and sometimes made my head spin, but she was like my best friend. Really, she was more friend than mom sometimes. I glance over to my dad, finding so many similarities between our faces. It was a wonder no one ever thought my mom’d kidnapped me. But here? Next to Charlie? There wasn’t any doubt. So I feel strangely better about this, and I feel good knowing this is an almost selfless act. For a little, until we pull up to the house.</p><p>Then all the awkwardness sets in, because combined Charlie and I have the social skills of a toddler. There’s a lot of adjustment in just the first few minutes, but thankfully, he lets me take up all the space I want in my room when he shuts the door behind him. Things were definitely exactly the same. I’d be surprised if he’d even touched the sheets. Things are simple, and plain, with a few fancy accents shipped out from my mom. The fairy lights along the wall, a painting she’d done for me, and now, as I set it down, the little succulent. “Just you and me, buddy.” I said, running my hand through my hair.</p><p>And then, I laid down, because I was talking to a plant. </p><p>There’s dinner in front of the tv, and I don’t expect to sleep well, but I do. I settle into a routine pretty quickly, getting a few days of adjusting, of remembering the routes to the stores and houses. Even if waking up, is hell without any sunlight. Especially at 7AM, on my first day of school. When I come downstairs, dropping my uncomfortably light backpack at the foot of the stairs, I’m fully sure, no one has ever been this cold before. I see my dad drinking his coffee. “Hey,” I greet, reaching to pour myself a cup. His greeting is a polite “Mornin’ “and it’s night, to sit down in the quiet, nibble on the few pieces of toast on the table. </p><p>But then, his conversation bug bites, and he’s setting down his paper. “So I wanted to get something solved before your first day, and I did.” </p><p>I wait for him to go on, eyes flickering at the complete fragment. “...Okay?”</p><p>“You remember Billy Black? Down at the reservation?” </p><p>I pursed my lips, shaking my head. “Not really?” </p><p>“Well he gave me a good deal for his truck.”</p><p> </p><p>“You got a car?” </p><p>He shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and reaching into his front pocket, pulling out a set of old keys. “No, Bells, I got you a car.” </p><p>I blink as he set them in my hand, really surprised. But in a good way. “You got me a car?”</p><p>“Now it’s an old car. It’ll need some TLC. But it runs good, brand new engine. Should be enough to get you where you need to go.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s great.” I say, actually managing a smile. “I can pay you ba-”</p><p>He waves his hand quickly, moving to raise from the table. “No you won’t.” His smile looks a little uncomfortable, like it’s not used to being under his mustache when he looks down at me. “I wanted to do it. You need it, and I was happy to help.” Charlie nods to himself one more time, adjusting his jacket. “Have a good day at school, I’ll see you for dinner.”</p><p>I have to laugh when I hear the door close, because I’m really just a carbon copy of that man. </p><p>When I step outside, I can’t help the grin on my face. My big, orange truck. It was perfect. It starts easily, and being in a truck that made people keep their distance makes me feel a lot better about driving in the rain. Which apparently, it just does? All day? </p><p>I wonder, vaguely, if there was a possibility of me getting paler. But the chances are slim. I hope. I pull into a parking space, cringing the majority of it because I’d only driven my stepdad’s truck a good dozen times. The little thing I’d sold in Phoenix? Maybe ¼ of my new car. But I achieved it, and felt very relieved. For maybe, 2.9 seconds. That’s about the time I remembered I must actually go in, and talk to people.  </p><p>I drag myself up, and only trip twice on the puddles littering the parking lot. Thankfully, neither were seen, because most people were funneling towards the entrance. I keep my eyes low and somehow, by making a few decisions with some very misleading arrows, find myself at the front office, chirping my first and last name to a very loud woman, in a very bright dress. </p><p>My schedule prints out on a neat little sheet, with my name and all my little numbers inked into the corner. She says a few more things, and I really try and let them compute, but it’s very early, and her voice reminds me of a morning rooster. I know I’ve missed one or two things when my question on which direction I should go for my first class and she lets out a bellowing sigh. I nod, as politely as I can, before I dip into the hallway. It’s really empty now, the morning bell had run just a few moments ago. It’s almost eerie. I decide not to linger because this town would definitely be the serial killer type. Their real reason for killing, believe it or not? Seasonal Depression. </p><p>I still get lost, and by the time I reach my class, I’ve missed half of it. And every single kid turns to stare when I open the door. Why do we always do that? It’s creepy. When I see the teacher is looking too, I walk up to him. “Hi, um. I’m new, sorry, I got a little lost.” I say, fully aware of how uncomfortable my voice sounds. But I couldn’t help it. The teacher— Mr….I couldn’t really remember, looks down at my schedule through his glasses, and the angle of it makes his eyes look incredibly big. If I wasn’t so nervous, I might’ve laughed. But instead, I’m quiet, until I’m handed a syllabus and ushered to sit down, and go back to doing what I do best. Blending into the background. </p><p>Or at least, I thought I was good at it. Now? I’m not sure. Within two paces outside the door, I’m fully stopped in my tracks by two guys popping up like whack-a-moles. One’s a kind of messy blonde that would’ve been a surfer type if he wasn’t here. The other has dark hair, and is way too happy for anytime before noon. They’re talking quickly, and I know I heard Mike, and Eric. But which was which? Wasn’t fully getting that. So I just say. “Uh, thanks, nice to meet you. And just Bella.” The fact that anyone could go by Isabella was beyond me. </p><p>“So how do you like Forks?” I’m just going to decide — Mike asks.</p><p>“Very friendly.” I respond, with a pursed smile. “I should try and get to my next class-”</p><p>“Oh where is it? I can walk you if you want. So you, ya know, don’t get lost.” Eric’s interjecting now, and would very much like to just cut and run. But I really didn’t want to have to fulfill the insanely sad trope of eating in the bathroom because you don’t have anyone to sit with. </p><p>“Sure, yeah. I guess. It’s,” I glance at my sheet. “210, Ms. Sloan?”</p><p>And then, against all better judgement, I let them lead the way. And we still get lost. </p><p>There’s my life. Clumsy and lost, constantly. When I push open the door, I just try to ignore the look of my classmates because I have a feeling I’m going to be getting it a lot today. “Hi. Sorry, got lost.” This woman? This is who you write some scary book about. All her features are sharp, and her gaze is even sharper, and I want to shrink back, even when she beacons for my schedule. </p><p>“Well, Isabe-”</p><p>“Bella. Just, Bella.” </p><p>A deep, dramatic sigh. “Well, Bella. Unfortunately, I have already divied up the groups. But I suppose…” She’s leaning to look around me, to the corner desk. “Yes. I’ll have you work with my TA, Alice. She’ll be able to catch you up. And would be a good person to ask for directions for your next class.” </p><p>Like I said. I didn’t have many memories of Forks. And those that I did, were blurry. But when I turn around — this? This will be the clearest one yet, because it’s the moment I thought I died. Really, truly, because I was looking at an angel. </p><p>Or, I was looking at a really, beautiful girl, and embarrassing myself in front of an entire new grouping of my classmates. </p><p>Probably the latter. But she’s — she barely looks real. Like some sort of living doll, put together perfectly. Honey eyes, and wild hair, and lips that look like you could take a bite out of them like the sweetest peach. So I forgive myself, for my internal outburst, because I really, truly don’t know why anyone is looking forward and not at her. </p><p>I blink, and even though I’m forgiven by myself, it’s still so, so very awkward, and I walk to the corner desk as quickly, and quietly as I can. The metal dings when my feet hit the legs of the chairs do wonders for my social anxiety, I can assure you. </p><p>“Bella, it is very, very  nice to meet you.” Alice perks up before I can even fathom talking, and the surprise must show on my face, because she laughs. A musical, wonderful sound that could be used to hypnotize thousands. “Well, c’mon and sit down. I promise I don’t bite.” </p><p>I’m averting my eyes, and tugging the hair that seems to constantly fall in my eyes, away, and trying to smile as I take my seat. I don’t even get to start before she’s talking. And I’m trying to focus, really. But all my senses were very interested in Alice, not an entry level Creative Writing Class. She’s paler than me (I guess it was possible), but there’s a kind of glow that I know I don’t have. Everything about her reminds me of honey. Like light shined through it. And I’m sure I look like a full, complete idiot when she’s obviously waiting for an answer, and I don’t have any. “Yeah,” For some reason, this draws a wider smile on her lips, and I really wish I knew what I said. </p><p>“Good! Then you’ll be able to do the project with help, and I get to use glitter glue.”</p><p>What had I gotten myself into?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, if you've gotten this far, thanks for reading! I've had this story in my head for a while and really wanted to write it. Let me know what you guys think.  Over and out. 🤙🏽</p></blockquote></div></div>
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